


Third Times the Charm

by ObscuredByLoss



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Anal Sex, And Lots of It, Angst, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, F/M, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Nancy and Jonathan are only mentioned, Porn with Feelings, Public Hand Jobs, Smut, Underage Drinking, Unsafe Sex, bad touch turns good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2019-10-08 16:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17389754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObscuredByLoss/pseuds/ObscuredByLoss
Summary: Steve, recent graduate, ice cream parlor employee, and small-town burnout is having trouble coming to terms with his new reality. He’s caught between the life he used to know and uncharted waters. He repeats the same recursive loop of unfulfilling, unremarkable high school parties...until one party becomes too remarkable, all thanks to some asshole Californian.





	1. Chapter 1

The humid air stunk of rank, cheap weed and stale beer vomited up from ambitious, competitive teenagers. It was suffocating. Steve pressed himself further into the cheap wood panel lined wall bracketing the shag-carpeted basement. He curled the left corner of his lip up imagining all the horrendous things that carpet must’ve been witness to. 

Why did he still come to these things?

Steve lifted the half-full red plastic cup to his lips, his second that night after Tommy knocked the first out of his hands in the kitchen. At least he wasn’t the only recent graduate still hanging around. That particular revelation had done little to quell the storm of shame he felt. Of course, he’d gotten good at managing his shame given he had to don a sailor’s hat and shorts, far too short to be worn while serving ice cream, every day. At least his former reputation, if he was drunk enough he’d admit it was actually his father’s money, meant he wasn’t a complete outcast. He was still on the list of invitees for all Hawkin’s house parties.

That didn’t mean he had to go though. Nancy wouldn’t be caught dead at a house party now. Not with her new boyfriend and his creepy penchant for dark hallways and voyeurism.  _ You can’t have fun, Nancy, no. You can only observe it!  _ A chuckled slipped past Steve’s lips at the haughty, mock-voice of Jonathan his mind had conjured. Maybe he was drunker than he thought. Well, he wasn’t afraid to have fun. Steve looked around him at the nearly abandoned room. The only other person present a freshman who’d passed out on the gaudy, scratchy looking couch. He could barely even hear the thumping of the bass and shrill synthesisers through the ceiling. He took another drink.

God he missed Nancy.

No! He wasn’t doing this again. He wasn’t going to sit in a deserted room pining after the girl who’d been smart enough to leave him. It’s not like she was gone. They were still friends. Sure, it still felt like a stake was being driven through his heart every time he saw Jonathan whisper in her ear or twine their fingers together or press his thin lips to her plush, soft ones.

Steve’s heart received an especially sharp stab on that one memorable occasion when he’d been walking back to his locker after basketball practice and he’d caught them together in the hall. Nancy had held Jonathan’s hands above his head, her thin, short fingers barely able to wrap all the way around his wrists but still she held him there, her authority unquestioned. Jonathan was pliant beneath her, content being pushed against the wall relinquishing all control to his very capable girlfriend. Steve’s body had frozen at the sight, the two of them pressed flush against one another Nancy’s lips teasing Jonathan’s, her hips undulating subtly and Jonathan’s legs quaking. When Steve could finally think past the thundering of blood pounding against his skull he ran. He’d barely been able to speak to them since then. But, yeah, they were still friends. 

He just needed to get laid. That’s all this was. He’d finally be able to put it all behind him. He’d finally be able to look his friends in the eye again. 

“That you, Harrington?”

_ Yeah, it’s me don’t cream your pants. _

Billy stumbled down the basement steps his gait uneven. He braced his arm against the wall as he descended but it did little to stop him from nearly tripping over every step. 

Today really wasn’t his day. Why hadn’t he left when he had the chance? Even wallowing solitary in that giant house, it’s walls echoing back his own footsteps as if to say ‘this is what it would sound like if you had friends’, was better than dealing with Hargrove’s aggravating brand of scrutiny. Hell, spending the night alone in Mirkwood would be an improvement over spending it with that asshole.

“What do you want, Hargrove?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Do I need to ask your permission to enter, Your Majesty?” Billy cackled like he’d just told the best joke in the world. His whole body shook with mirth and he almost collapsed on the creaky stairs. Steve’s fingers tightened against the flimsy plastic of his cup. He wasn’t in the mood for a fight but he wouldn’t run if one came looking for him. “Should I bow?” Billy asked, his unsteady body mimicking his words as he finally stumbled down the last step still laughing manically. “Is that what you want Harrington? You want me to fall to my knees for you?”

A bolt of lightning shot up Steve’s spine.

“Are you always this much of an asshole or is it only when I’m around?” At least his voice was steady. Steve took another sip from his drink nonchalantly or, at least, as close to that as he could manage. Billy sauntered over resting his forearm next to Steve’s head leaning obnoxiously into his personal space. Logically, Steve knew he was taller but Billy had a way of making you feel small. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because that’s not what you want. Is it,  _ Stevie? _ ” Billy leaned in even closer, his breath ghosted across Steve’s cheek causing the graduate’s adrenaline to spike and his heart to hammer in his chest. “I heard some rumors. Tommy says you’re a  _ fag _ , says you tried to touch him in the locker room.”

“Tommy’s almost as much of an asshole as you are.” It figures Tommy was using every tool in his pathetic arsenal to destroy what little bit of Steve's reputation he'd managed to salvage. Not for the first time Steve wondered what on Earth had possessed him to count that braying jackass of a person as a friend. 

Billy leaned back a little. Steve let out a shaking breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The blonde’s eyes squinted assessing and his pink tongue poked out of his mouth and danced across his bottom lip in that infuriating way he always did before he smirked, having come to some conclusion.

“I bet it’s true.” He leaned back in and Steve hated himself for the way he sucked in a breath, almost gasping. He couldn’t stand how easy it was for the other boy to get a reaction out of him. He hated himself for responding to Billy’s taunts and jeers every time. “I bet you’re a fag.”

“You’re crazy. I was dating Nancy when you moved here or are you so stupid you forgot?”

“Oh, I didn’t forget.” This close to his face Steve could smell Billy’s pungent breath, thick with acrid alcohol, oversweet pop, and thick smoke. “That’s why she left you isn’t it? Because you want to get into my pants.”

Steve laughed, he wasn’t sure he’d ever laughed as hard as he did at that statement.

“You’re crazy! Even if I was a fag, which, just for the record, I’m  _ not _ , why in the world would I want to fuck you? You tried to fucking  _ kill  _ me! You’re the last person on the planet I’d want to have sex with!”

“That right?” Billy carefully laid his hand directly in the center of Steve’s chest and the small laughs still streaming out of his mouth stopped instantly. Steve’s breaths shallowed and panic began to rise up. The hairs on the back of his arm rose, standing as tall as a wheat field right before harvest. He should get out of here, Billy was wasted. “‘Cause I think you  _ are _ a fag.” Billy leaned back in, the heat of his body stifling in the already uncomfortable room. The californian pressed his mouth to the shell of Steve’s ear and he whispered, “I think you want to fuck me.”

Steve’s mouth was suddenly dry, his tongue felt thick and dumb in his mouth, sticking to the roof like taffy.

“That’s what you want isn’t it?”

“No! I…” Steve stumbled over his words.

“No? So, you want my hand. You want me to jerk you off?” Billy’s mouth quirked to the side and he slid his hand down Steve’s chest delighting in his squirms. Steve opened his mouth to protest but Billy grabbed his soft cock through his jeans and all that ended up coming out was a groan. Steve’s eyes flicked to the freshman on the couch but he was still dead to the world, he hadn’t so much as moved since Steve came to the basement. “You like that don’t you?”

Steve closed his eyes. He should leave. God he should leave. He could leave if he wanted to. Sure, Billy was pushing into his personal space but he wasn’t trapping him there. If he really wanted to go he could. But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

To say Steve had hit a dry spell would be like calling the Sahara a little droughty. He hadn't so much as been touched by anyone else since Nancy left and Steve garnered a new appreciation for his right hand. It wasn't that he couldn't get a date. His reputation may have suffered a bit but he was still considered the most attractive guy in the school. There was a time when that title would’ve been uncontested. Now, some would emphatically argue that it belonged to the boy enthusiastically palming his rapidly stiffening dick through a layer of denim. Although, Steve had several very good objections to that argument, none of which came to mind at the moment.

So, Steve could get a date. But after Nancy...after death and danger and  _ life,  _ everything else just seemed hollow, like a faberge egg. It looked nice from the outside but on the inside it was empty and boring. He couldn't go back to that. Nancy had broken that desire out of him. But he still had some desires. Raging infernos of desire that had had nowhere to go but a dirty gym sock until now.

“Yeah, you like my hand. Look at your face, you blushing for me, queer?”

Steve could feel his face heating and the flames spread down his neck to his chest. He must look a wreck. It was embarrassing,  _ mortifying _ , but Steve had gotten good at managing his shame.

“Fuck you.” The words came out breather and deeper than he intended but he figured Hargrove got the gist.

“Hmmm,” Billy probably meant for it to sound considering or reproachful but to Steve he just sounded hungry, a starving lion just thrown a steak. “yeah, you'd  _ love  _ that wouldn't you? You'd love anything I give you.” 

Billy moved closer his head falling to the crook of Steve's neck. His sweat damp curls brushed Steve's forehead and he couldn't find it in himself to be disgusted. The most unsettling thing was when Billy pushed his hips forward. They rocked gently against the ridge of Steve's hipbone and there was an unmistakable distention right to the left side of younger boy’s zipper. Billy just moved against him for a moment his hand stilling, no movement just pressure against Steve’s crotch, and a broken sigh spilled from the blonde’s slack jaw cooling the skin of Steve’s neck.

Steve's gut knotted itself into a pretzel, his intestines coiled like amorous snakes, writhing against each other. He had the irresistible urge to run again but his legs refused to stir. Theoretically, he knew Billy was getting off on this, it was the only possible explanation for what he was doing, but to be confronted with the evidence was another matter.

“ _ Shit, _ ” Billy rocked his hips again, forcefully pressing his length against Steve just as the brunette was trying his hardest to think about anything else. “You want me on my knees don't you? W-want me to take out your dick and lick it, wrap my lips around you. Nnngh, you want to fuck my throat?”

And Steve could picture it. Billy on his knees there on that godawful shag carpet blue eyes staring up at him. His dick throbbed in his pants. The involuntary jerking finally snapping Billy out of his lustful haze and he sped into action fumbling at the fastening on the front of Steve's jeans. His hands had lost their previous coordination and it took a few tried for the button to snap free. Billy's hand was hot and slick with nervous sweat when it pressed against the silk skin of Steve's erection. The pads of his fingers caught on the bloated head pulling at the skin and causing Steve to buck.

Billy's tongue flicked out licking away a hot stream of sweat running down Steve's neck. Steve gasped. The brunette turned his head away telling himself it was so Billy wouldn't try to kiss him, not because it gave him better access to the sensitive skin of his throat. Billy hardly noticed, he wa rutting against Steve in earnest now. His hand wrapped around Steve’s girth with a firm pressure, circling his fingers and drawing more choked off moans from the boy pressed against the wall.

“But that wouldn’t be enough for  _ King  _ Steve would it? No, no you’d want more. You’d want to,” Billy panted his breath drawn short. “Want to open me up, split me in two. Shove your dick inside me  _ raw _ , fill me up with your spunk.”

Steve keened. He’d never fucked anyone without a condom before. Most of the girls in high school were too worried about getting knocked up. There was one girl Steve had been on a couple dates with who’d told him she was on birth control but still refused to fuck him without a rubber. And it was fine! It was good, great even. He’d always respected their wishes, he didn’t want a kid any more than they did. But, but he’d always wondered what it would feel like without a barrier, just skin against soft, slick skin. When he was alone for the night, just him and his modest stash of Playboys that’s what he’d think about. He’d cum to fantasies of Nancy letting him in without latex letting him feel the inside of her, stretching her, and finally spending himself inside her. He got off on the image of his cum dripping out of her used hole, a part of himself left behind deep inside.

Steve groaned helplessly. Billy fastened his lips to Steve’s throat forming a tight suction and pulling the skin into his mouth. He teased it with his teeth and lathed it with his tongue, a confusing mixture of pain and pleasure. Billy stopped moving his hand holding it steady the ring of his fingers still tight against Steve’s shaft but immobile. Steve whimpered.

“Fuck it! Fuck my hand like you want to fuck my ass!” Billy’s husky voice rang out and not for the first time that night Steve was grateful for the loud, intense music blaring on the main floor.

Steve’s hips stuttered forward of their own volition. He finally dropped the near empty cup that’d been precariously dangling from his fingertips for the last handful of minutes, heedless of where it landed or what happened to its contents, in favor or digging his fingers into Billy’s muscular shoulders and using the leverage to thrust into his hand. Steve bit his lip and impaled himself through Hargrove’s fingers again and again. He clenched his eyes shut, furrowed his brow, and teased his bottom lip between his teeth. All the while Billy was panting encouragement, egging him on, telling him to go faster, harder and he did. Steve’s back was damp from the exertion, rivulets ran down across his face and landed against Billy’s exposed chest.

Steve could feel the building sensation, overwhelming and overpowering. He chased it like a greyhound running after a rabbit. His nails dug into Billy’s scapulas and the Blonde hissed but Steve could feel the newly minted senior’s cock twitching against its prison walls, he was getting off on this as much as Steve. 

Finally, a harsh sound tore itself from Steve’s throat as thick jets of sperm coated Billy’s hand. Steve’s mouth went slack and he moaned as his thrusts slowed. His hands still held Billy’s shoulders in a punishing grip formerly used as leverage, now they served as support to keep his jelly legs from completely collapsing. The brunettes head sagged forward landing in the crook of Billy’s neck. He left it there, too tired to care. He could feel the thundering pulse of Billy’s adrenaline saturated artery.

Billy released Steve’s softening member and pulled his sticky hand out of the elastic band of the graduate’s previously clean briefs leaving behind an uncomfortably clingy wet cloth. Steve eventually pulled his head back with enormous effort and unclasped his hands letting them hang loosely at his side. He opened his eyes to slits and stared at the man in front of him. Billy’s hair was wild, his curls frazzled and pupils blown. His still erect dick was hard to miss.

“I knew you were fucking queer.” The words were meant to sting, to wound but all of the venom had been sucked out, the hollow insult sounding more dazed and desiring than hurtful.

Billy grabbed the front of Steve’s polo and wiped off the mess on his hands like Steve was nothing more than a towel rack for his use. Steve curled up his lip in revulsion but couldn’t muster the energy to truly protest. Without another word Billy turned and left still unsteady on his feet but for a very different reason.


	2. Chapter 2

Smoke billowed in a thick cloud coalescing and dissipating in mesmerizing shapes as it floated from its source. Steve’s lips parted to emit another thick puff of strongly aromatic wisps. The tips of his fingers tingled with sensation. He closed his eyes and let the world swirl around him. He smiled. He loved this feeling. The loss of control, of responsibility. He was wound up so tight most of the time, always on edge, waiting for the world to open up beneath his feet and swallow him up whole. Steve let out a chuckle at that thought. Most people would think that thought was hyperbole, not a truth that haunted Steve, nipping at his heels like the many-toothed jaws of demo-dogs.

That was enough of that. He wasn’t going to let his mind circle the drain today. The pot was meant to help him forget, for at least a couple hours. Steve opened his eyes to the glass walls of his living room and inhaled another lungful of burning smoke. His scalp prickled with sensation, pleasant little needle points of feeling reminding him of the sound of heavy summer rain against a window. Hmm, that was more like it. Steve settle back against the soft, supple embrace of the well-worn couch. He let himself stretch out, let his legs fall open. This was what he needed. Everything always felt _more_ when he was high, raw in a way it never did when he was sober. That is, not since Nancy left him.

Ugh, he wasn’t going to go there either. Steve shook his head trying to forcefully rid his mind of thoughts. He stamped out the roach still smouldering in his fingertips. There was one surefire way to empty his mind. Steve closed his eyes again and brought his hand to his mouth. He pressed the rough pads of his fingers against his lips. He pushed firmly against the soft skin there. He basked in the electric fizzle that shot through his body. He’d always wanted to have sex when he was high. With how much it amplified things when he was alone, he couldn’t fathom what it’d be like with a partner. He moved his hand down, letting the blunt tips of his nails drag across his skin. Little jolts of fire cascaded across his body in their wake. His breath deepened and he could feel his pulse kicking up in anticipation. God he needed this.

Finally his hand made its way to his crotch. He couldn’t suppress a moan at even the dulled touch and mounting anticipation. He didn’t waste any time popping open the button and zipper. He shimmied his pants and boxers down his thighs and kicked them off to land somewhere on the floor. He wanted this so bad. He wanted to have the blissfully blank mind of orgasm. He looked down at the flaccid cock laying against his bare thigh. Unfortunately, while the drugs made everything feel more intense it also made it harder for him to get started. He took himself in hand.

He kneaded the skin, pulling and carressing the supple flesh between his finger and thumb, brushing it with his palm. He pulled his blood south spurring it’s journey through his arteries and drawing it into his dick, filling out the skin. Letting his cock stretch and grow, giving it girth and weight. He pressed the pads of his fingers to the crest of his cock. Fireworks exploded behind his eyes as his hips gave a hard jerk. Every sensation was heightened, every small touch lit his skin aflame. Even things that didn’t really do anything for him normally, like rubbing the pert nubs of his nipples, made his balls clench up and precum dribble out of his tip.

His pulse was racing now. Sweat was falling down his forehead. He sucked in a breath as he circled his fingers around his shaft giving a firm stroke. He threw his head back and just let the sensations flood through him. Little gasps and cut off moans escaped past his lips as his hand sped up. He reached his left hand past his other to massage his balls. He pinched a thick fold of skin there between his index finger and thumb and stretched it out.

He moaned obscenely. Images started to flit through his mind. He needed to come up with something good. Something to carry him across the waves of pleasure cresting through his body. First he pulled up a common, well-worn fantasy. A brown haired woman spread out on his bed, clothes forgotten on the floor. Maybe she was hesitant? Maybe he’d have to seduce her?

Hmm, no that wasn’t doing it for him tonight. A brunette wasn’t right. It was too close to someone he was trying very hard not to think about right now. A blonde? Yeah, yeah blonde was good. Long, loose curls of spun gold thread. Oh yeah, It’d be so soft. He imagined running his fingers through the silky strands.

Steve bit into his bottom lip. In his mind he kissed her, ran his tongue along her soft, full lips. She wouldn’t be a timid virgin like Nancy was. She’d want him unabashedly. Maybe she’d pull him down on top of her forceful and demanding. Steve moaned loudly as his cock twitched in his hand. In his fantasy the girl moved between his legs kneeling on the floor and looking up at him with mischievous blue eyes. She licked a strip up his cock all the way from his balls to his leaking head. In reality Steve licks his palms and rubs the slick skin along the imagined path. Then the girl spreads her lips around him working her tongue along the sensitive underside moaning when the salty taste of him hits her tongue.

Steve clenches his eyes shut tighter his muscles going stiff as a particularly strong wave of pleasure crashes through him. After it recedes he takes a few panting breaths, his dick still hard and aching. In his mind he looks between his legs but the beautiful blonde woman who used to be there has transformed. Now Billy Hargrove’s smirking mouth is stretched around his rigid dick, the corners of his eyes are crinkled like he’s laughing at him but Steve’s too gone, too high to give a shit.

This wasn’t Steve’s fault. Billy’d put the ideas in his head in the first place. Making him imagine Billy’s mouth, his tight ass. Oh shit it would be _so_ tight, wouldn’t it? Steve gasped and his fingers clenched around his shaft.

He hadn’t really been able to stop thinking about that night since it happened last weekend, try as he might. Even Nancy, in her Jonathan preoccupied state, had noticed something was distracting him. Thankfully he’d been able to lead her off the scent without much trouble. Unfortunately, it was much harder to turn his own thoughts to something else. It was made even worse by the fact that Billy was always just _there_. Loud and brash, sucking up all the attention in the fucking town.

No matter what he did or where he went Billy always seemed to be hanging around. The worst was when Billy came to Scoops Ahoy. He’d always get a vanilla cone and eat it right there in the store, letting it melt a little and lapping up the white cream with his tongue obscenely, eyes darting over to hold Steve’s. Fucking asshole.

This wouldn’t be the first time Steve had resorted to those implanted fantasies to get off. There was just something so deliciously _wrong_ about it. He got that same little thrill out of it that he got when he used to climb the fence onto the football field at night and smoke up with Tommy. The thrill of knowing something was wrong but doing it anyway.

He wasn’t getting off on it because Billy was a man. No, definitely not. It was _in spite_ of that. It was because of the thrill, because with Billy he didn’t need to worry about birth control and condoms. He could actually feel bare skin against skin. And, maybe it was a little bit about Billy wanting him. Sure, Billy had tried to put it all on Steve that night. Playing it off like _Steve_ was gay, like _Steve_ was the one who’d sought Billy out but it was cellophane lie, flimsy, thin, and entirely see-through. It was obvious how much Billy wanted him. Hell, he’d felt the proof of that hard against his hip that night. It was a nice feeling for someone to actually want to be with him for once. Even if it was Hawkins’ douchiest resident.

But it was mostly because Steve wanted to fuck someone without a condom. Yeah, that was definitely the biggest reason. Steve’s hand sped up working furiously along his hard steel length. _Shit_ , how hot would it be to cum inside someone. Hell, with Billy’s long hair he could even pretend it was a girl, as long as they were only doing doggy that is. It’s not like Steve would even really have to touch him. I mean, with how turned on Billy’d been just giving Steve a handy he’d probably be able to get off just by Steve fucking him.

“Fuck!” Steve shouted cum spurting out of his tip and landing in thick strips and drops across his belly and chest. He moaned as he continued to lightly caress his softening cock trying to wring every last spasm of pleasure out of his own body before collapsing weak limbed and exhausted.


	3. Chapter 3

The flame of a lighter snicked to life granting a small stretch of illumination in the purposefully dark and packed room. The soft, flickering point of light gave the appearance of a baroque painting. The scene was cast in smudged oil-paint shadows and bright, shining highlights emphasizing the cut of a jaw, the slopes of cheekbones. Every corner and edge of his face was painted in stark relief.

Billy rested against the hideously yellow fleur de lis wall-paper pulling in a lungful of tobacco laden smoke. It was a different saturday, same lame small town party. The nicotine seemed to diffuse through his blood almost instantly softening his anxious, frayed nerves into something calmer. His almost ever-present irritation dulled to a quiet background fuzz, like the white noise of a blank radio station. That was, until Tommy decided to slide onto the wall next to him.

“Fuck off.” Billy took another drag from the smoldering cigarette perched between his fingers in an attempt to combat the headache that always seemed to manifest whenever the sycophant decided to chase after him like some imprinted baby chick.

“They’re starting up a keg stand competition in the backyard.” Tommy was smiling like that was some piece of breaking news, something he was sure would pique Billy’s interest. Like it was a challenge, like Billy hadn’t already crushed the best Hawkins had to offer. Not for the first time that night Billy’s eyes scanned the packed living room looking for someone tall and lean, with ridiculous hair.

“What’d I just say?”

“Okay Jesus. Just thought you might want to have some fun, show everyone who’s still on top. I mean, it’s been a while since you really challenged anyone. People are starting to talk. Some people think you’re going soft.”

“It’s boring. Everyone in this town is pathetic, it’d be like beating the shit out of a two legg’d dog. It’s just sad.”

“Look, just because Tracy gave you blue balls doesn’t mean you need to get all up in my face about it.”

Billy’s fingers stilled on the way to his mouth.

“What’d she say?” His question came out quieter than he’d intended.

“Just mentioned you never ‘did the dirty’ when Carol asked her. I wouldn’t worry about it, man, Tracy’s a prude anyway. Plenty of fish in the sea, right?”

“Yeah, right.” Billy finished his previously aborted motion taking another deep pull from his cigarette.

“Fine, stay here and mope over some dumb chick that didn’t want to hop on your dick. I’m going to go beat your keg stand record.” Tommy slapped Billy’s back nearly causing him to drop the still lit cigarette. Billy glowered at Tommy’s back as he left.

His gaze, and murderous intent, followed Tommy through the door to the kitchen where he saw something else. Or rather, someone else. Billy’s body flashed hot and cold so fast it was almost nauseating as he spied Harrington’s unmistakable coif bobbing along with his stupidly handsome head to the music being pumped through nearly the entirety of the house. Billy swallowed around his suddenly dry throat.

The blinding light from the kitchen spilled out of the doorway cutting a rectangle of brightness through the hallway that seemed to only touch Billy. He determinedly didn’t flinch at the sudden light but calmly dropped the embered filter of his spent cigarette on the polished wood floor of the hallway and stomped it out with his boot.

Steve’s eyes swept to the kitchen door as Tommy burst in. Steve’s dopey smile chilled somewhat at the sight of his erstwhile best friend. His gaze didn’t linger but instead sidestepped past the fool, through the doorway, to the new reigning King.

Their eyes locked with an almost audible click. Billy felt the bottom drop out of his stomach like he’d just crested the highest hill of a rollercoaster. There was a strong thread of electricity thrumming between their pupils. Billy’s breath halted in his lungs but his heart galloped on, banging against his ribs.

The electric circuit of their eye contact was broken as the kitchen door swung shut, the moment stretching no more than a few scant seconds but feeling like much more. Billy stayed where he was, willing his breath to return to normal. Almost immediately the door reopened and there was Steve again, staring at him.

* * *

 

Billy stood next to the bed. He hadn’t looked behind him as he climbed carpeted steps, he hadn’t wanted to check if Steve had followed. Billy had opened the first door on the second floor which had, thankfully, been free of drunk, amorous teens.

He could feel the pressure of the mattress against the backs of his thighs. It was a soft yielding pressure that promised so many things if he would just fall back onto it. He stood. He curled his fingers into a tight fist as he waited. Anxious energy danced along his limbs telling him to punch, to run laps around the house, anything but wait here exposed and vulnerable.

Finally, the metal of the doorknob turned. Billy’s breath shallowed and he ignored how his hands shook at the end of his arms. Steve stepped into the room. He didn’t look at Billy, instead he quickly closed the door and turned the lock. He stayed like that for a moment before straightening up and turning around. His eyes rose from the floor tentatively, scanning the entirety of Billy’s body slowly before reaching his eyes. Billy’s hands stilled, a calm settling into his bones. He could feel a flutter of anticipation in the pit of his stomach.

Steve stalked forward, his wide strides taking him well into Billy’s space. They stood a scant few inches apart the air rippling with electricity making the hair on their arms stand on end. The charge before the lightning strike.

Steve reached out, his hands grasping the open seam of Billy’s leather jacket, the zipper biting almost painfully into his palm. He held him there, close enough he could feel Billy’s heat radiating off his exposed chest. Steve wanted to pull him in, could feel the compulsion pulsing low in his gut and tingling on his lips. Instead he pushed him away, roughly throwing him onto the bed.

Billy would never admit it but the breath he sucked in as his body connected with the mattress sounded far too much like a gasp. His fingers tangled in the loose sheets. He tried not to think what that meant, an unmade bed at a house party. It didn't matter anyway, he couldn't stop what was about to happen any more than he could stop a train with his bare hands. The worst part was it was getting more and more difficult to convince himself he even wanted to try.

Steve was on top of him, his lean body slotted between Billy's spread thighs. When had that happened? Steve's hands groped over his chest exploratory. His fingers splayed over the flat expanse of Billy’s pecs pushing into the skin and hard, unyielding muscle. Billy’s eyes tracked the movement of Steve’s blunt fingers too afraid to look into his eyes. The only noise was their labored breathing and the muted thumping of music diffusing through the floor.

Steve’s nails scratched gently over the pane of Billy’s chest and down his fluttering abs. Billy huffed a breath biting down on his lip to suppress the groan lodged in his trachea. His nipples hardened and he could feel his skin growing more attuned, more sensitive to Steve’s ministrations. Billy curled his fingers tighter in the soft cotton of the bedspread trying to ground himself not knowing what would happen if he let go, if he let himself reach out and grasp like he so desperately wanted to.

Steve’s probing caresses traveled further down Billy’s body. The blonde watched their movement, blown pupils tracking broad, calloused hands. The already palpable tension only grew thicker in the galvanized air. Billy had the sudden absurd urge to say something, _anything,_ to thin the air enough for him to actually breath. More than that he wanted to tell Steve how hot he looked, how hard it was for him to focus in basketball practice when Steve had been running around in those shorts and how the Scoops Ahoy ones weren’t any better for his mental health. He wanted to grab the side of Steve’s face, feel his stubble against his thumb and tell him how often he’d imagined chasing a drop of sweat down Steve’s neck with his tongue and how sweetly the reality had matched up.

He wanted to say how gray and boring his days were now that he never saw flashes of Steve’s preppy polo shirts in the hallways.

But he could never say those things so instead he bit his lip so hard he was sure he’d break skin. Steve’s fingers toyed with the waistband of Billy’s tight jeans. His digits fumbled with the button and he listed to the side unsteadily almost sprawling out over the half naked man beneath him. After a few more tries he finally managed to slip the button free and pull down the zipper. Billy wasn’t able to stop a moan from rumbling out of his chest at the release of pressure.

Steve’s fingers splayed on either side of the opening, dirty blonde curls already peeking around the denim. He dug his thumbs into the hollows of Billy’s hips and sucked in a shuddering breath. Billy shivered under the rapturous attention. Steve’s adam’s apple bobbed as he grabbed the denim with sweaty, trembling hands and slid it down Billy’s legs. Billy’s erection bobbed free of his pants, swollen and red. There were a long few seconds where Steve was still, hands limp at his sides, eyes focused on what he’d just revealed. Then Steve pulled the jeans off the rest of the way leaving Billy all but completely bare.

“Turn over.” It was meant to be a command but Steve’s voice sounded small and unsure.

Billy pushed himself up onto his hands shrugging the rest of the way out of his jacket and throwing it carelessly onto the floor. He let himself look, just once more at the graduate, soaking up his dilated pupils, mussed hair and flushed cheeks before he turned around. He snatched a pillow from the head of the bed bunching it between his forearms so he could rest his head.

He closed his eyes as he waited. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks and neck, the flush was the only outward indication of how vulnerable he felt, exposed in a way he’d never allowed himself to be before. He heard the rustle of fabric somewhere behind him. Then the hollow slide and clap of wood against wood. Finally he felt the mattress dip and heard the creak of old springs as Harrington rejoined him on the bed. Panic began to bubble at the base of his spine. Billy clenched his eyelids shut tighter and gripped the down pillow whiteknuckled. His body tensed as he heard the unmistakable plastic snap of a bottle opening.

Steve’s warm palm aligned itself with the taut muscle of Billy’s ass cheek. His fingers squeezed the tense muscle pulling it to the side, exposing him even more.

“ _Fuck_ ,” The breathy exlamation was punched out of Steve’s diaphragm as one of his hands continued to knead Billy’s ass while the other slathered a generous helping of lube along his twitching cock. Once he was satisfied with his one handed application he grabbed Billy’s other cheek spreading them with both hands and watching the ring of muscle between them clench and twitch. It really shouldn’t be as arousing as he found it right now. Almost without thought he inched his lubed thumb closer to the ring massaging it. Billy gasped at the sudden slippery warmth so close to his opening. Steve released his own answering groan lust heady and intoxicating.

Steve shuffled forward on his knees aligning himself between Billy’s spread legs. He grasped his straining dick in one hand, stroking it a few times, before lining it up with Billy’s hole. He thrust forward slowly, trying to ease himself inside. He’d taken more than a few women’s virginity and he knew how to be gentle. He may be a hormone laden eighteen year old but he wasn’t an asshole, well not anymore at least.

Billy could feel the huge, blunt tip pushing against him. He also felt the panic rising up like bile and nausea roiling in his gut. He tensed and he felt Steve’s cock slide past his entrance along his crack hitting the back of his balls and leaving a slick trail of lube in its wake. It felt unpleasantly wet and slick when he pulled back. Billy sucked in quick shallow breaths. He wanted this. He’d wanted this almost from the moment he’d seen the previous basketball captain, Hawkin’s fallen King. Why was he sabotaging this? This was his one shot, the only chance he’d ever get to do this. He consciously tried to slow his breathing, taking long, deep, deliberate lungfuls. He willed himself to relax, to let Harrington inside. He could feel Steve’s thumb drawing gentle circles where one of his hands gripped his hip.

Steve rubbed his left hand over his dick, trying to spread more lube onto his tip. He took a few more seconds than necessary basking in the flicking tendrils of pleasure. Then he lined himself up again holding the base of his cock steady as he slowly, _slowly_ pushed forward. He could see Billy’s ribs collapsing as he breathed out deeply. The thick muscles of Billy’s shoulders and back relaxed losing their impressive definition and the head of Steve’s cock slid inside Billy’s body. Steve moaned low and guttural using every last bit of willpower he had to hold still and wait for Billy to adjust.

A stinging ring of fire lit up Billy’s backside as Steve pushed into him. It _hurt_. He let out a sobbing groan the pain sharp and stinging. Billy bit down onto the pillow and reminded himself to breath. He wasn’t going to fuck this up. He tried to tell himself to relax but he could feel himself clenching and releasing in short turns. It was an excruciating few seconds before Steve thought Billy was ready and he began to thrust. He started slow and shallow. Never fully withdrawing himself but making sure not to push too deep too fast.

After the initial, painful breach is over Billy’s body starts to relax. It’s an incredibly odd sensation. The thick, long length of Steve pushing into him, stretching the inside of him so fully. It sort of feels like he has to take a shit at first, but that feeling subsides pretty quickly. The rocking motion hits a steady tempo and the sliding push and pull even starts to feel good, in an interesting way. He can feel sweat start to bead on his back and his flagging erection has started to plump up again.

Billy can feel Steve move his left hand, finally sure Billy isn’t going to push him out, and grip the other side of his hip. His fingers are like iron, digging in with branding strength and the reason for that grip becomes clear almost immediately after. Steve uses his newfound leverage to _pull_ Billy back onto him, impaling him all the way down. Both boys moan lewdly. Steve leans over Billy’s back skin to skin. Billy can feel Steve’s panting breaths in his sweat-damp curls. It’s even better than he’d imagined, having Steve like this.

Steve’s lips brush the skin of his back, then his tongue, and finally his teeth nipping. Billy moans again pushing himself back more firmly onto Steve. He can feel Steve twitching inside him and he can feel the older boy humming, his chest rumbling where it’s pressed flush against him.

“I’m going to make you cum like this.” Steve pants into his ear and Billy gasps his cock now, once more at full mast.

Steve leans back again testing the angle and trying to thrust at different depths. It’s a technique he’d perfected with the girls of Hawkins High. Everyone likes it just a little bit differently. The trick was to switch it up until you found what your current partner liked best then keep doing that exact thing until their legs turned to jello. It really wasn’t rocket science. Still, somehow most guys seemed to fuck it up. They’d get excited when a girl started moaning a lot or they’d be too busy chasing their own pleasure to even notice if they were and they’d speed up or go too hard and lose that magic sweet spot. It was all about angle and rhythm and Steve had that down. He’d always taken more pleasure in pleasing his partners than himself.

“Shit! Steve!” Billy’s right arm shot out from where’d been gripping the pillow to press into the mattress. His other hand flew to his dribbling cock. Steve smirked.

Steve bucked shallow and quick driving his dick into that sensitive spot inside Billy causing him to writhe and squirm. There was no fighting the noises at this point. He was babbling, cursing and moaning wantonly. His hand flew furiously along his length desperate for his release. His body starts to tremble, thighs quaking so hard Steve has to moor them to keep them from falling over all the while he keeps up the relentless pace driving them both closer to the cliff face of oblivion.

Billy’s mouth is agape, no more sounds are coming because he can barely even draw breath. He’s never felt like this before, he’s never been so completely incapacitated with pleasure. When orgasm finally hits him it’s like a punch striking every nerve in his body almost too severe to be called bliss. His vision whites out and he’s not entirely sure what noise makes it out of his mouth but it’s a chest deep thing meant to shake walls. What little strength was left in his legs gives out and he falls forward Steve following behind him still buried in his ass.

Billy’s face is pressed to the side of the pillow his left eye affording him a view of Steve furiously jackhammering into him trying to find release. Billy can feel the slick slide of precum and lube wetting his crack and the uncomfortable stickiness of his own cum gluing his softening cock to the sheets below him and he knows it should bother him. The fact that he wanted this at all should terrify him but watching the flex and release of Steve’s abs, the ruddy glisten of his well bitten bottom lip, and the damp waves of his hair finally knocked out of their hair sprayed perfect place only makes him feel content.

Steve emits a choked off groan as he gives a final thrust fully seating himself inside Billy. Billy can feel a warmth pooling deep inside of him and his cock twitches furtively at the knowledge of what just happened. Steve’s arms finally collapse and he lands with a grunt on top of Billy sucking in huge panting breaths the air rushing right past Billy’s ear.

Billy turns his head, Steve’s mouth so close to his they’re practically breathing from each other’s lungs. He could do it now, if he wasn’t a coward. All he has to do is move his head a scant few inches and their lips would meet. Then he remembers the way Steve turned his head from him that first time in the basement, he remembers the way Steve’s head turned as his fists struck it that terrible November night, and Billy lets his head fall to the pillow.

It was less than a minute before Steve regained his breath. He peeled his chest off of Billy’s back the damp skin having tried to stick them together. Then he eased himself out of Billy both boys wincing at the uncomfortable movement for different reasons. Billy stays laid out on the bed while Steve gathers his things and gets dressed. He chances a glance up before the graduate leaves and he hates what he sees. Perfect, preppy Harrington without a lock of hair out of place.

“Hargrove…,” Steve tries not to fidget as he stands by the door thinking he should say something but not having the faintest idea what it should be.

“Fuck off, faggot.” Billy's voice is rough and cracking.

The door closed with a dull click and Billy was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know harsh ending. I hope you all liked the smut enough to not hate me for that end. This was always going to be too short a story for them to really work through their issues though.


End file.
